


I'm a doctor, not a merman

by TFALokiwriter



Category: Star Trek: The Original Series
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst, Caring!Spirk, Concerned!Spock, Guilt, Humor, M/M, Odd, Shore Leave Aftermath, Spock and Jim love their grumpy doctor, Transformation, disbelief, mermaid tail, strange, unusual
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-06-29
Updated: 2017-07-02
Packaged: 2018-11-18 05:46:08
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 9
Words: 8,887
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11284908
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TFALokiwriter/pseuds/TFALokiwriter
Summary: How does oneliveknowing they're eventually going to become a merman?





	1. Chapter 1

McCoy tossed and turned in his bed. He rested on his back coming to a rest. He turned toward his side placing his hand under the side of his face. And his hair was messy. Droll was coming out of the side of the doctors mouth as he snored along. From the device alongside him, the alarm went off with a series of beeps. Familiar, friendly sounds. McCoy leaned up. The blanket falling to his lap. He flexed his hands out then stretched his arms with a yawn. He felt something odd and short in between his fingers. He held his hand up then flexed it. The webbed material moved with his fingers widening in space. The doctor lazily stared at his fingers then wiped away the golden dust from the corners of his eyes rubbing them while clearing the dust out. The side of his head was throbbing.

"Hmnm?" McCoy said.

There was a webbed structure in between his fingers that was a slightly lighter tone of his skin.

"Mmph," McCoy fell out of bed with a thud.

McCoy appeared to be bewildered at the scenario at first then he rationalized it.

"Good thump to wake myself up," he rubbed the side of his head. "good god, whatever the hell did I drink?"

McCoy lifted himself onto the edge of the bed then looked down clearly toward his hands. His eyebrows raised as his vision remained the same. Was this a side effect of drinking last night with Scotty and several other engineers back down at Tarose? He could only remember it, vaguely. He stared at the fingers then attempted to peel away the web. No, it couldn't be removed, the doctor yelped. It was like skin. He held his wrist looking at it with wide eyes. Something clearly happened last night. They didn't leave the planet, did they? McCoy balanced himself up regaining composure.  He had a bad hang over. He needed to use a hangover hypo as soon as he could.  He made his way toward the comn terminal to the side of his room.

"McCoy to Sick Bay," McCoy said.

"Chapel here," Christine was always there, bright and early. He didn't know how she did it.

"I need a health check up," McCoy said.

"Acknowleged," Christine said.  "I told you to lay off the shots."

"Sorry for not listenin' to ya about that," McCoy said. "ya were right." Christine had a beautiful laugh.

"How's the head?" Christine asked.

"I need a hangover hypo," McCoy said.

"I will get the kit ready," Christine's voice came over. "Chapel out."

McCoy took his thumb off the communication then looked back toward his bed. The doctor came over to the bed where he scanned for any substance or anything else that he took with him. McCoy came across several broken seashells, five mussels, and three clams. He saw several seaweed lurked about the bed. The bed came with a feature that automatically cleaned it from sheet to blanket to pillow. The doctor gathered the marine life from the bed placing them onto the counter. He made his way toward the closet feeling his legs getting awake. He scratched at his pant leg to satisfy the itchiness that his leg was feeling. The doors to the closet slid open to reveal the series of uniforms. He took out his uniform of the day then placed his uniform onto the bed. If Christine was going to do a check up on him then she should do it first before shower.

He poked his head out his quarters then looked side to side.

Coast is clear.

He is going to have a good day to figure out what is going on before telling Jim.

"Good morning, doctor,"  McCoy heard Spock's voice once exiting his room.

The doctor fell, naturally.

"Damn it, Spock!" McCoy said, once the  Vulcan caught him in a romantic pose. "Don't scare me like that." Spock raised his well kept, dark slanted eyebrows and tilted his head at the doctor. There was a awkward silence between the two men. The Vulcan elected not to pursue the conversation regarding scaring him which is what he did not intend to do.

"I believe the phrase 'this is awkward' applies," Spock said.

"Let me go," McCoy said. Spock obliged. McCoy landed to the floor with a thud.

"Why do you smell like fish?" Spock asked. 

"Why I. . ." McCoy said, propping himself up. "I had a wild night."

"Jim and I spent shore leave at a spa," Spock replied.

"Why  y'all not interested in alcohol," McCoy said, using the wall to help himself up."Keep at it."

"We will," Spock said. "and you deserve a sonic shower." _Yes, yes I do,_ McCoy thought.

"I have a errand to run," McCoy said. "a sonic shower can wait a minute. See ya on the bridge!"

McCoy walked away from the Vulcan heading down the hall then we see a pudgy figure come out of the quarters alongside  Spock. Scotty probably had a good enough memory on what happened last night. The doctor tiredly made his way down the hall passing by night crewmen heading toward their quarters to retire for the morning.


	2. Chapter 2

Christine smelled fish enter bio quarter room 2. She turned to see a tired McCoy. He sat down onto the nearest biobed rubbing the side of his head. He didn't look so well, himself. The doctor's eyes began to close but they slid open indicating his fight to keep them open. Christine took out a forehead thermometer. She slid the rounded device onto his forehead. She then moved to his hands. She placed a rounded device onto his index finger then covered it to prevent the doctor from seeing it except for her. McCoy was snoring, again. She took off the device then made a note on the pad. The biobed indicated what she had just done was not incorrect.

"Leonard," Christine said.

"Hmm," McCoy's eyes opened. "yes?"

"You have a clean bill of health," Christine said.  McCoy gave a tired glare at the woman, a skeptical one, through the veil of lethargic. That was a load of shit. He looked fine, but internally? Something was going on and he didn't like it. He took of his boots then slid his socks off. "Doctor---"

"Ya didn't examine me," McCoy said.

"I don't need to---" Christine stopped, seeing his ankle appeared to be unusually dry. His skin was seemingly peeling away. McCoy's tired eyes looked in the direction of his legs then back up toward Christine's direction. If there was any opportunity of marks appearing above ones head, one would notably find a question mark above the doctor's head.

"What's wrong?" McCoy asked.

"Nothing," Christine said, grabbing a medical tricorder from the table. She offered a comforting smile. "relax."

"Sure," McCoy said. "I never felt this tired in the mornin'."

"There's always a place for a first," Christine said, scanning the man.

She peeled away the skin with great care to notice a shade of gray was beginning to show. She looked toward his fingers taking them into her hands. She frowned, then took a photo of it using the tricorder. She had never seen anything like it. She turned his hands upside down to see knuckles, veins, and wrinkles where there should be. The webbed fingers were not normal. Christine looked back at the case of  Syndactyly that she came across just six months ago with a child the away team had brought back. It was a inherited genetic trait that had fingers fused together so by the looks of it, it was the simple variation  for the doctor. She checked the doctors file on the padd just to be sure. No cases in the McCoy family tree.

Christine frowned. 

"How odd . . ." Christine said.

McCoy groaned, opening his eyes once more.

"I need that hangover hypo, please," McCoy said.

"Take your shirt off," Christine said. "After this."

McCoy's hands went back behind his neck toward the neck zipper  at the back then slid it down.

"All right," McCoy said. He then slid the uniform off. A smile started to grow on her face so she covered her mouth as sounds started to come out. "what is so funny, nurse?" his eyes snapped wide as his 'Chief Medical Officer' mode kicked in with that voice. She was fighting back the urge to laugh at the doctors predicament. "Nurse Chapel."

Christine uncovered her mouth then took something off his chest.

"It seems you were being drunk with the fish last night," Christine said, then she took another star off his breast. "Pants off."

McCoy was feeling thirsty. Too thirsty for his taste. He unzipped his pants then slid them off. Christine knelt down taking pictures of the legs. She noticed the skin was dry as the ankles. She even noticed the toes were had webs in between them sliding her fingers between them. She noticed the doctor's face cringe. She took another test to see if his eyes were not effected using a small, but short medical flash light. It was difficult to do that when his eyes refused to stay open. She faked a cough. The doctor's eyes grew wide open. His  eyes followed the path that her fingers were going. Christine put the device back into the kit.

"Put your clothes back on, please," Christine said.

His legs were still, resting side by side. The doctor scratched along his leg then took the shirt that she held to him. She turned away inputting the data that she had collected. He slowly put on his uniform once more with difficulty putting his legs into the pants. He did it slowly  nearly tipping off the biobed. Christine took out a hypospray  coming to his side. The doctor rolled his sleeves up. She cleaned the middle of his elbow, wrapped a tight brown string, then placed the hypo into his neck. Blood steadily came into the item. McCoy struggled to remain wide awake. He had a terrible headache. She applied the other hypospray to the side of his neck.  The cool hiss of the hypospray relieved the doctor.

"Feels like  I am becomin' a mermaid," McCoy admitted.

"Merman," Christine corrected the doctor.

"Yeah, same thin'," McCoy said.

"No, Leonard," Christine said. "the word mermaid describes a female merperson," the doctor raised an eyebrow back at the woman. "Merman describes a male who is also a merperson. A merboy is a young merman. Much like a mergirl. Personally? I call them mergals."

McCoy zipped up the neck zipper.

"So. . . what if I am?" McCoy asked, as Christine placed the hypospray into the kit.

Christine had a amused laugh.

"If?" Christine repeated. "I doubt it. Probably caught something on Tarose."

"This is the Enterprise luck we're talkin' about," McCoy said.

"Just because the captain had been through becoming a centaur, a ghost, a half goat being, does not mean you can possibly become a merman," Christine said. "Don't be ridiculous. You're probably becoming a siren."

"A siren?" McCoy asked.

"If you can sing," Christine said.

"I haven't sang in a long time," McCoy thought, looking back.

"Which would be a disadvantage as they can drown people then eat them," Christine said. "supplied that they don't at first take advantage of anyone to supply their numbers . . ." McCoy grimaced. "But I didn't see any bite marks, claw marks, or anything for that matter to indicate what is really going on with you." the nurse shrugged.

"So . .  ." McCoy started, hopeful. "there's just a chance that I am just experiencin' Tarose's intoxicative beverage aftermath and I just over drank enough to bodily effect me?"

"Plausibly," Christine said. "Open that mouth, I need to check your tonsil."

McCoy obediently opened his mouth wide.

"My, my, your teeth are still human," Christine. "not turning into a siren."

Christine swapped the inside of the doctor's mouth.

"Visually, it does not appear to be swollen," Christine said. "I will do research about any other instances of something like this happening." He put his boots back on then zipped up the boots to the side. The doctor's eyes landed on the kit then back in the direction of the woman ever so tiredly. He needed some more shut eye. It felt like even if he tried to get dressed, the only thing he would do afterwards is fall asleep. His eyes were battling to remain open as pockets of darkness began to cloud his vision. Christine grabbed onto the man's shoulder steading him.

"I recommend ya do the research," McCoy said. "and cross check Tarose with it."

"It looks like you are not going to be on the bridge today pining," Christine said.

McCoy's face became heated.

"Now hold on a second, I am not pinin' after a _married_ man," McCoy said. "I feel it is safe to check them first in the mornin' before returnin' to sick bay. That way, there won't be a delayed response time when the ship is attacked first thin' in the mornin'," the doctor twirled his index finger in the air. "Ya know, the Enterprise is the only ship known for that."

"Which is when the chaos usually unfolds," Christine said.

"Coincidence!" McCoy argued.

"Uh huh," Christine said. "if you say so," the doctor zipped up his pant zipper. "free to go," McCoy fell off the bed but snoring. "You must have really hit on the bars last night, Leonard," Christine shook her head then shook the man's shoulders repeatedly. "wake up, wake up, wake up," she then paused, considering how to best wake him up. A smile grew on the woman's face. The smile vanished from the woman's face. "Doctor, there's a  medical emergency with Spock and the captain!"

McCoy bolted up.

"What, what, what did they get themselves into now?" McCoy asked, his eyes flipped open.

"Go to bed," Christine helped the man up to his feet.

"Alright," McCoy said. "I must be sick. . . ." Christine handed him a glass of water. "Thank ya," he gulped it down in one sip then stumbled forward dropping the glass. Christine caught the glass. The doctor gained his footing and balance while Christine could only look at him in awe that he was still able to walk around as tired as he is. "No, Chris, I am not lettin' ya escort me to my quarters. I am not goin' to fall on the way," he turned toward the woman with a sincere expression. "I am goin' to be on autopilot."

"Should Mr Spock be informed?" Christine asked.

"After we're sure regardin' my issue," McCoy said, scratching along his leg. "Don't need a false alarm."

"I doubt you of all people have false alarms," Christine said. 

"Remember the eerily stroke like symptoms I had?" McCoy asked.

"You recovered," Christine said. McCoy tiredly rolled an eye.

"That wasn't a stroke, it was a false alarm for somethin' entirely threatening," McCoy said. "It was a parasite tryin' to turn me into a edible vegetable," the doctor shuddered at the memory. "And if it wasn't for medication and y'all, I wouldn't be standin' here, alive, and the critter dead."

"Who knew that Cardassian medication could do that?" Christine asked. 

"Pure luck," McCoy said. "whatever ya think I have, I don't have it. Because it'll be somethin' else when the results return."

The doctor made his way out of the quarters leaving a amused Christine.


	3. Chapter 3

Christine arrived into sick bay then came over to the computer. Her fingers flew on the keyboard. The kit was tucked away under her feet. She typed in mermaid, transformation, Tarose, and side effects. The screen grew to life demonstrating instances in different stardates. She had her hands tucked under her chin staring at the screen. She looked up at the search results number. Apparently there were a lot of cases.

"Hmmm. . ." Christine said.

She went to the first case on the page.

"Perhaps this will be informative," Christine said.

The screen glowed to life with a image appearing on it.

 **Patient:** Commander T'Pol.

Christine raised her eyebrow.

"Now a Vulcan becoming a mermaid," Christine said. "I did not expect that."

 **Physician:** Phlox

 **Story:** T'Pol awoke this morning a visit to the planet Tarose with Captain Archer to establish relations in the growing community with her bed covered in seaweed, three clams, twenty-three broken seashells, and six mussels. The night before shall be not be mentioned per doctor-patient privilege. She had itchy legs, her skin peeling, and required constant water. The symptoms were non-life threatening. It was required to use a Abdolian slug to undo what was being done to her. Abdolian is a endangered species native in the deep seas of Earth. If there is any other instance like this, then there is a chance it cannot be reversed.

"Extinct," Christine said.

She looked at the pages and pages of stories regarding becoming a mermaid.

"Hmm. . . I do have to be sure what he is turning into," Christine said, then she began to read the files.

Her eyes gazed from side to side reading on the text. Her fingers moving to select another file. Christine sat there for an hour absorbing in the information that she could from the screen. The sick bay doors opened for M'Benga to come in his medical blues. Compared to McCoy, M'Benga was wide awake and cheery. It so happened that he was both a morning and night person capable of walking on three hours of rest. He came in with  security officer who was limping with a injury that was questionable.

"Good morning, nurse," M'Benga said. "I heard from the doc that I am on shift this morning."

Christine grazed up from her seat then guided the poor ensign to a biobed.

"He is just sick," Christine said, in her nurse voice. M'Benga frowned.

"How so?" M'Benga asked.  "Hangover?"

"Yes," Christine said, with a nod. "he has it bad."  M'Benga turned his attention toward Christine.

"Unzip your pant legs, Lieutenant  Riley," M'Benga said. "I need to get down to that injury you got on yourself."

"Oow, ow, ow, ow," Riley whined. "It was an accident."

He carefully unzipped the section where it ended above his knees.

"That's what everyone says," M'Benga said. "and I am willing to believe what Kathleen did to you was deserved."

The long, black pant leg fell off into the man's hand.

"Ha, ha, ha," Riley said. Riley frowned back. "very funny."

Christine handed the dermal regenerator into the doctor's hand.

"Thank you, nurse," M'Benga said.

"You're welcome," Christine said.

The fine purple long needle restored the dermal layers lifting away once the layer had returned. Several of the methods that she had read from the files were either not around or sounded a lot like bullshitting their way to explaining away uncomfortably how the crewmen grew normal again because the cure was not-quite-legal-to-acquire. Most of the mentioned methods that could be used sounded uncomfortable and had a certain time limit to be done before it became permanent. The Irish man landed on the biobed with a exasperated sigh of defeat. His thoughts heated by high levels of testosterone. The doctor handed the dermal regenerator back to the woman.

"Mr Riley,"  M'Benga said. "let me just recommend that you don't attempt doing what lead to your injury again."

Riley leaned himself up.

"Why would I want to do that again?" Riley asked, then he put the pant leg back on with some difficulty putting the zipper in.  M'Benga was handed a padd where he inputted Riley's medical information.

"Oh," M'Benga said. "I don't know. Bad habit of getting on the wrong side of the fence."

"It just happens," Riley said.

"Whatever your leg was against, I recommend you gold off doing it for a hour," M'Benga said. "skin still vulnerable."

"All right, all right," Riley said, then he limped his way out of sick bay.

M'Benga turned toward Christine.

"How about that Halo game fight that we were supposed to finish last week?" M'Benga asked.

"I'll get to it," Christine said. "and our other player is otherwise occupied."

"Sure," M'Benga said. "but she is eating. Her shift doesn't start for another twenty minutes."

Christine rolled an eye.

"You just want to settle the score with me," Christine said. M'Benga nodded his head.

"You killed my avatar," M'Benga said. "I don't know how you are not angry from me killing yours first."

"I already got rid of my anger from that, doctor," Christine said, coming back over to the desk. "now if you excuse me, I have some important research to be doing."

"If you say so," M'Benga said. "I'm going to have breakfast with the other nurses. . . did you eat allready?"

"Uh huh," Christine said, with a nod.

"You are a early bird," M'Benga said. "how _do_ you do it?"

"I like to think I have spidey senses," Christine said, tapping on the side of her head.

"You are funny," M'Benga said, with a laugh. He shook his head then made his way out.

_Good._

She needed to be absolutely sure before telling McCoy that he was, in fact, becoming a mermaid.  Which meant more in depth research regarding crewmen getting drunk and finding themselves the next morning becoming a mermaid. Exactly how she pictured her morning to start off. Researching about the stories of other crewmen on what lead to their predicament unlike T'Pol. Which would require checking his quarters out to be sure. He didn't mention marine life. Perhaps he thought it wasn't relevant. _He thought it wasn't relevant._ Typical McCoy. 


	4. Chapter 4

It was odd that McCoy had yet to come onto the bridge.

 _T'hy'la, what is wrong?_ Kirk asked through the bond.

 _The doctor_ , Spock replied, _he has yet to arrive_.

 _He can't always be on the bridge_ , Kirk replied.

 _He spends a majority of his time here,_ Spock replied as their eyes met, _it has been five hours since our last conversation_.

Kirk pressed a button.

"Kirk to Sick Bay," Kirk said.

"Sick Bay here," M'Benga's voice came over.

"What is Doctor McCoy's status?" Kirk asked.

"He is sick, sir," M'Benga said. "Took himself off duty."

"Ah," Kirk said. "That's a shame. I hope he gets over it."

"Me too," M'Benga said. "Given how drunk McCoy was when he came aboard, I am surprised he made it to his quarters on his own."

"Thank you, Doctor," Kirk said. "Kirk out," he turned his head in the direction of the first officer to see a skeptical expression on his face.

Oh boy, he was not convinced.

Janice appeared by the captain's side with a tray of coffee.

"Captain," Janice said. "it's time for your coffee."

"Thank you, yeoman," Kirk said, taking the mug. He glanced over her with a fond expression. "Shouldn't you be have a rank or acareer track by now?"

"This is my career track, captain," Rand said.

"It has been eight years," Kirk said.

"I love being a yeoman, captain, don't mistake that," Rand said.

"How about if I promote you to Transporter technician--" Kirk was cut off by the woman.

"No," Rand interrupted.

"Miss Rand, it's the least I can do," Kirk said. "women like you don't stay as yeoman for their entire service. And you get along with technicians and engineers. . ." the captain took a sip from his mug sensing the Vulcan's concern for the doctor. He wasn't the only one concerned for the doctor. Normally, McCoy would be up and about debating with Spock and bouncing in the argument on the tips of his toes. If the doctor was sick, then he was sick, besides, it wasn't the firs time the doctor had not come to the bridge because he was sick in the morning. "You are a _excellent_ Star Fleet officer."

* * *

The scene panned over toward Christine walking down a corridor alongside M'Benga. M'Benga and Christine went in a single filed line to enter the doctor's quarters. They heard snoring from the other side. The doctor was sprawled on his bed covered in blankets with his palm danging off the side of the bed. M'Benga came to the man's side checking his pulse. The doctor groaned slipping his hand back in under the blankets. Escaping back into the comfortable, warm dark inside. McCoy's skin was cold and smooth to the touch.

"So you didn't photoshop it," M'Benga said, turning his head toward the woman.

"I wouldn't do that to Leonard," Christine said, tucking up his blanket to show his skin was peeling away. There were peels of dead skin left on the bed with a tinge of gray becoming apparent.

M'Benga grew a concerned expression to his face.

"Was Scotty with him when they left last night?" M'Benga asked.

"Yes, doctor," Christine said.

"Just to be sure the method wasn't followed through to the letter," the dark man shook his head covering the ankles. "God knows how far he is into the transformation," he held his hand out. She handed him the hypospray. "He is not going to like what he is going to hear."

With a hiss, the hypospray was applied to the side of the doctor's neck. The invading metal into the side of his neck alarmed the doctor as he began to wake up. McCoy bolted up from bed with widened eyes, his adrenaline running, and his heart beat running. Everything was blurry at first until his vision began to clear. The doctor felt fully rested. A dark hand placed itself onto the side of the man's long, exposed slender shoulder. His uniform was back in the closet while the civilian uniform was halfway out the laundry dispenser, clean, and warm. McCoy recognized the black man and the blonde woman once his vision cleared. 

"Geoffrey," McCoy said. "be frank with me. What am I turnin' into?"

"Leonard," M'Benga said. "you're turning into a merman . . asides to the blood test, I think that will confirm it."

McCoy stared at the two quite blankly.

"Tail, gills, and unknown reproduction methods?" McCoy asked.

"Yes," the two said.

"Oh no," McCoy groaned, falling back onto the bed as the grip on shoulder went lax and let go. 

"But it can be reversed depending on what method was applied," Christine said.

"That is if you didn't use a irreversible method," M'Benga said, McCoy propped himself up feeling wide awake. "mermen are not quite mortal," McCoy raised his eyebrows. "they live a really long time."

"Three hundred years," Christine said.

The southern doctor lowered his head.

"Ya have to tell them," McCoy said.

"We won't," M'Benga said. McCoy raised his head up, startled, by the reply. "if it is not reversible them then we will. I am not happy at the idea that I will have to replace you, trust me on it, Leonard."

"I don't remember what happened last night," McCoy said, flatly. "y'all have to ask Scotty about what happened last night."

Christine's eyes glazed over toward the counter that had a transparent box with water inside it and seaweed. She could see several clams and mussels scattered about inside the container. She walked over toward the container. Christine looked down toward it as M'Benga asked how many drinks the man had. She slowly slid a clam out of the water with her hand then felt circular marks. The first file had indicated there were lifeforms inside the objects. She could see the mussels resting away from the clams. There was a green like substance coming from the edges of the shells. It was a green mussel. She turned in the direction of the two doctor letting the clam fall back into the container. M'Benga took his  hand off the man's shoulder turning in the direction of the nurse. 

"What do you bet that Scotty is in sick bay already?" M'Benga asked


	5. Chapter 5

"Scotty," M'Benga said, entering the patient's room. "how was last night?"

"It was wild," Scotty said. "but fun. Nothin' tae complain about."

M'Benga smiled back at the Scotsman picking up a dermal regenerator.

"I heard it was more than wild," M'Benga said.

"What?" Scotty asked, bewildered. "who told ye that?

"McCoy," M'Benga said. "something happened to him."

"Aye," Scotty said. "those bruises were a number."

"Not about that," M'Benga said. "in fact, he didn't have any."

"He dinnae have any?" Scotty repeated. "Ye lyin'."

"Not lying," M'Benga said, applying the dermal regenerator to the man's knuckles. "tell me what happened last night."

"Why McCoy and I went on our night out," Scotty said. "we came tae this old bar. The Kurst Oyster. More than a thousand years old. It was also a strip club at one point in its lifetime. There were mermaid bein's there. Mermaids and mermen!" Scotty had a glint in his eyes at the mention of the merpeople. "Ye see, the doctor had several drinks. Some of their best concoctions," he shook his hand. "I had the federation approved ones. I had tae make sure the doctor dinnae get lost or knocked up so I said that we were partners. And we had some skinny dippin' in this water side called Tepol's lake," M'Benga kept a serious face. "He was gone for probably five minutes? Tops?" the engineer shrugged. "I was enjoyin' myself and so was he. . . Maybe an hour. He was decorated and glowin' when I saw him again. I dinnae how lon' we were down there."

"What kind of glowing?" M'Benga asked.

"He had sex," Scotty said,

"Ah," M'Benga said, once he finished using the dermal regenerator on the scotsman. 

"What is wron' with him?" Scotty asked, concerned.

"He is becoming a merman," M'Benga said. "I don't think we can undo it but we can stall it for long."

"Ye mean tae say that he is becomin' part fish?" Scotty asked.

"Yes," M'Benga said, then jotted down on a padd. "you're free to go." then he left the Scotsman behind in the private room.


	6. Chapter 6

Spock and Kirk made their way down the corridor heading in the direction of sick bay. M'Benga had called them up minutes earlier. Spock's concern for the doctor had increased. Kirk stopped in his tracks placing a hand on the Vulcan's shoulder. Their eyes met as the captain had shared his concern for the doctor through their bond. They were standing to the side of the corridor as Vulcan science officers passed them. Kirk let go of the man's shoulder. They resumed their path down the fifth deck. Their shoulders were touching almost as though there wasn't any space between the two men. Kirk's fingers found themselves traveling to Spock's long, bony fingers. Sending jolts of comfort emotionally and arousal. 

The sick bay doors opened before the two men allowing them in. Kirk's touching spree stopped. The room had been rearranged to be outfitted with several biobeds lining about the room. The Enterprise had briefly been out in space dock getting construction in sick bay for six months. The full refit would be done after the second five five year mission had ended. The nurse desk was rounded and circular with several computers installed to the corners with a panel that slid up. Christine was tending to a patient dealing with pain. The two went into the doctor's office to see M'Benga resting in a chair reading a padd. The desk still had the acid marks left on it years ago because of an accident.

"What is it, doctor?" Kirk asked.

M'Benga slid his boots off the desk lowering the padd.

"I recommend you sit down for this, captain, commander,"  M'Benga said, earning a eyebrow raise from the Vulcan. The two men did not seem interested in sitting down. The man sighed. "So you haven't heard the rumors going around?"

"What rumors?" Kirk asked.

"I believe he is referring to the rumors regarding the doctor becoming a fly," Spock said.

"I would have heard of it," they turned in the direction of the black man.

"He is becoming a merman," M'Benga said. Now it made sense why the doctor smelled like fish. "We can't fix that."

"But you can stall it?" Kirk asked, earning a nod.

"At the rate we'll stall it, he can have a good thirty-five years of being a human. . ." M'Benga said. "Asides to having itchy legs and minor mermaid effects, he'll be quite fine."

"Define fine," Spock said.

"Able to walk, run, and be alive in general," M'Benga said.

"And what don't you know?" Kirk asked.

"How it'll effect him, personally, becoming a merman," M'Benga said. "his case is very unusual."

"How so?" Kirk asked.

"He had sex with a merman," M'Benga said. "apparently the merman ejaculated in him, don't ask me how he did it, but he did it . . ." the man paused sadly. "We do know that sonic showers won't effect his transformation," the man cleared his throat. "but we are not entirely sure that ordinary water would speed it up. Swimming in it," he looked down toward the padd placed onto the table then toward the two men. "we're having the DNA test being done to see what kind of fish he's becoming if we can find out this early. He's barely there but we can get a rough idea what to expect with the unexpected."

"Can he be on duty with what is going inside him?" Kirk asked.

"With the medication that he'll be on, I am pretty sure McCoy will be his usual self except for feeling like he can fly," M'Benga said. "which reminds me, captain," he tapped his fingers together leaning forward on the table with his elbows on the counter. "The USS Hope is scheduled to be coming by the Enterprise in three hours . . ."

"And the medicine he needs is aboard the hospital ship," Spock said.

"Yes, sir," M'Benga said.

"I will see what I can do with Captain Burnham," Kirk said, he turned in the direction of Spock while beaming with loving, warm like eyes. "Interested in a family reunion?"

"Indeed, captain," Spock said.

"Captain," M'Benga said. "he'll have to have it on him at all times. I'll need extra to cover three years."

"Why three years?" Kirk asked, baffled.

"Given the doctor's tendency to be away at times while under captivity, it is quite logical," Spock said. "or else he will run out and become part fish."

"I don't want that," M'Benga said.

"Neither do I," Kirk said. "consider your request granted."

"It's Deluxian," M'Benga said. "Pills last for 12 hours per day. Which means he will have to live with 2 pills per day," _He will have taken eight thousand seven hundred sixty pills within a year,_ Spock told the captain. Kirk's heart sunk. "fortunately, there are still people who get knocked up from mermen and mermaid encounters so the pill is still in demand. It stops working, strangely, by year 35, and doesn't take effect. Scientists are still trying to figure out why."

"Give me another option," Kirk said. "there has to be another way other than letting nature take its course on him."

"That's all we can do," M'Benga said. "I am sorry, captain, but there is no other way. . ." the doctor grimaced at the thought. The thought that the best doctor in the galaxy could not be helped. "Speaking of which, there is a very good chance that McCoy will stop taking the pills and let the transformation take its course in the first year. Statistically, one in thirty stop taking the pills altogether in their first year. If he makes it to the second year, it'll be harder. That'll be one in twenty.  It won't be easy."

"How can I help?" Kirk asked.

"Being supportive of him," M'Benga  said. "I would say. Professionally? Don't make him feel special. That'll do the opposite of what everyone wants. And it'll make him feel more alien than human as he is."

"Understood," Spock said. "So we do not treat him any different than we usually do."

"Yes, sir," M'Benga said. "that's the best anyone can do at this time. Even me."


	7. Chapter 7

"Scotty, are you all right?" Riley asked.

Scotty was taking a drink at the bar aboard the Enterprise.

"Why would I be?" Scotty asked, bitterly. "I just signed one of my best friends up for being a merman."

"Oh," Riley said. "so it is that bad."

"Aye," Scotty said. "I should have taken him to the federation bars instead."

"You could not have expected this," Riley said, placing a hand on the Scotsman's shoulder.

Scotty glanced over with a glare that could kill.

"I will be the judge of that," Scotty said. "I had heard the rumors, the stories, all the drunken accounts. . . I thought it was a myth," Scotty took another drink. "I should nae have pushed my luck with him," Riley slid his hand off the Scotsman's shoulder as he looked at him in sympathy.  "It's a poor existence. Outlivin' everyone ye love and know," the Scotsman grew a comforted smile. "He probably will nae outlive Spock if the Vulcan has a say in it."

"Vulcans are lon' livin'," Riley said.

"If anythin'," Scotty said. "Spock will outlive the doctor."

"Uh huh,"" Riley said, then took a sip from his drink. "so except for what happened last night, how was the last day of your shore leave?"

"It was fantastic," Scotty said. "though it can't beat makin' sure the Enterprise is runnin' smoothly," his eyes diverted toward the walls of the Enterprise. Riley nodded in agreement taking a sip from his glass. 

The fine age that was getting to her. She was aging well. She had some of her wall panelings replaced. The bridge was in desperate need of a refit but it still worked. The torpedoes needed a overhaul. The phasers needed to be replaced. The Transporter room needed a upgrade. And engineering needed a redesign. It didn't match up to the new ships coming out of space dock. Scotty felt like a parent watching his little girl growing up in handy downs. He was going to help in her growing up. She was built in 2245 above space.

Scotty felt at home listening to the steady hum of the engines. The dilithium crystals readily powering it up. Enough supply to last them for the last remainder of the five ear mission. Scotty, one way or anther, was going to oversee the refit. And it was sad that his friends were going their separate ways. He could see the captain becoming a fleet captain to stay in space with Spock staying by his side and the doctor. . . Scotty briefly closed his eyes. He didn't know if the doctor would chose to live the lifestyle the rumors had said about those being turned or to live fighting against it. He was feeling immense guilt at his part in placing the southern gentlemen into his plausibly early retirement. 

He took another sip from his glass.

Only time would tell how this year was going to be.


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for not posting a chapter yesterday, I had been on the road for several hours and when I arrived to my destination: I had to watch the doctor falls on my computer then reblog a lot of doctor who stuff on tumblr. I hope this makes up for it! I hope this hurts your feels! :')

The doors whooshed open to the doctor's quarters. McCoy lowered the padd with several strings of text to his lap while resting on the couch. He had taken off the pant legs to the pants that made them appeared to be khakis. There was a bucket alongside the couch that had peeled skin resting inside. The tinge of gray was standing out on the doctor's very long, thin legs. His legs were set side by side resting on the arm rest of the couch. The doctor raised his eyebrows at the unexpected arrival.

"What brings ya here?" McCoy asked.

"It has been brought to my attention that you signed a DNR," Spock said, his hands locked behind his back strolling over toward the couch.

McCoy did not seem to be bothered by the observation by the Vulcan. Spock observed the human didn't flinch at the mention. It was as though the stung from hearing the words being told to him had already done the trick by his head nurse. McCoy seemed to be at peace with himself and free at first glance. He didn't wear eyeliner. And his hair hadn't been trimmed. He also seemed to be fuzzy around the chin. As though he hadn't put on the anti-beard cream that morning. It was almost like McCoy had done a successful crash course in 'how-to-abandon-your-professional-persona-like-you're-stranded-in-Las Vegas'.

"Oh, that," McCoy said. The doctor leaned into the couch making himself comfortable. "Had to make that necessary."

"Why?" Spock asked.

"Because when I die, I like to die as who I am and what I am," McCoy said. "I reckon it'll be during this second five year mission."

"Doctor," Spock said. "Is that really how you feel?"

"Yes," McCoy said. "not a youn' man anymore. . . I am easily  over thirty. Ya know how gettin' old is."

"Getting slower, grayer, and with newfound wrinkles," Spock said.  "You are doing well for someone your age."

McCoy glared back at the Vulcan.

"Define well to me when I am turning into a damn merman," McCoy said.

"You are not going gray, your age doesn't show,  and you are still caring on your duties as a chief medical officer," he came to the couch set alongside the doctor. "I sympathize on your predicament."

"Don't," McCoy said. "Please. I don't need it nor do ya."

"Jim is worried," Spock said.

"He has every right to be," McCoy said. "if M'Benga takes over, he will surely have to follow the man's health regiment."

"Your assesment is correct," Spock said. "but it will also break him knowing you are gone."

McCoy looked over toward the Vulcan, his face softening.

"I can't always save y'all," McCoy said. "but ya, unlike me, can always make sure Jim doesn't get himself killed."

Spock nodded.

"I will ensure that he will live long and prosper," Spock said. "but I believe you should at least discuss this with your family."

McCoy closed his eyes then reopened them to stare back at the Vulcan. Had he just heard the Vulcan tell him to talk with his family. Sure, it was unfair for them. But it was the only way out of this hell hole. He couldn't do it keeping himself out of the water to die a slow and painful death. Dying without water. He couldn't do that to himself. Not ever. He didn't want a repeat of the time Khan had slowly deprived them of oxygen. Dying by not being in the water must be the equivalent of it. He could still remember struggling to breath. His vision blurring. It was nothing like Xenopolycythemia. The symptoms included becoming weak, pain in his lower extremities, and fatigue.

Was this the same Vulcan who he had met all this years ago once boarding the Enterprise via the transporter? Spock and Jim then were inseparable, normally came and went in pairs anywhere, and now Spock was without him. It had to be pretty important enough that Spock was not by the captain's side. The human looked at him, quizzically. Eleanor was a novelist visiting Bajor performing research for a religious, but spiritual novel about a Bajoran's journey to not believing in the prophets into believing in them. His mother would be heart broken to out live him. The question that Spock had really posed to the doctor  was " _Did you think about your family before you did this?_ ".

The human turned his head away taking a sigh.

"Spock," McCoy said. "Unlike ya, I can't be helped."

"Anyone can be helped," Spock said. "if only they accepted it," the Vulcan paused. "My apologies. I meant for those who can be helped, and clearly," his eyes scanned the man's legs restraining back the emotions of _PAIN, PAIN, PAIN, PAIN, PAIN, PAIN, PAIN, PAIN, PAIN_. Emotional pain that was wrecking him. "You are beyond it."

McCoy nodded to the Vulcan's assessment.

"All those times were different to y'all," McCoy said.  "I am a .  . a stuntman, in the background, an extra, who can't be saved," he shook his hand. "One of those secondary characters that history likes to ignore. To forget. And personally? Being a secondary character means I can get _my_ happy ending and not killed off tragically!" Spock did not have a response at first to the human. "Ya see what I mean?" Spock's face did not change. "Right?" McCoy raised his arched eyebrow. He watched for the Vulcan's eyes to show a glimmer of emotion. All he saw was a serious demeanor in them. The doctor relaxed. "Ya get it," the doctor sighed. "I am controllin' my own  fate. There is no fate then what we make for ourselves."

"John Connor, Terminator 1984," Spock said.

 McCoy nodded.

"What I mean to say is, Spock," McCoy started. "is that I can't live that way."

"I understand," Spock said.

"Underwater," McCoy added. "One planet. I will be limited to help people. I'm a doctor, not a merman."

"Doctor," Spock said. "would you like to know how fish live?"

"No," McCoy said.

"The penis is hidden inside, underneath, the fish. They come out in a shaft. They have a tiny hole located near the base of the tail that allows them to relieve themselves. They cannot control their tendency to release waste," Spock explained. "your decision is quite logical given your desire to be in control of your fate. If I were in your position. . ."

"Which you are not," McCoy said.

"I likely would have done the same," Spock said. The words hit hard at McCoy. What if it had been Spock instead of him? "The hypothetical planet would not be where I belong."

Spock would not have gone silently into the night. He wouldn't have accepted his fate. He would have likely sought a way around it to free himself of the transformation. Amputation would be the most logical route and finding something to arrest the transformation from becoming complete.  The amputation would be a long one in surgery. McCoy couldn't live as a amputee but Spock likely would have taken the option to continue being a excellent science officer in star fleet.

"Ya know," McCoy said. "if I am goin' to end up outlivin' ya instead of the other way around. . . I think I'm goin' to miss ya." It was a honest, non-sarcastic friendship admission by the human directed toward the Vulcan. All the compliments about being a Vulcan made him not prepared for this. It reeled the Vulcan, almost rocking him, as he tilted his head appearing to be confused by the human. Had he changed the human's mind?

"I did not intend to change your decision, doctor," Spock said. "the decision you have is the one that you are most happy and settled on."

"But ya want me to tell my family," McCoy said.

"Yes," Spock said.

"If I am still alive by then, I suppose," McCoy said. "I should start gettin' my affairs in order. Twice divorced, got that done. . ."

"Leonard," Spock said. "be sure if you _want_ the Do Not Resuscitate order," Spock pointed his index finger at the human with his fingers curled to his palm. "You cannot change your mind on something important like this. Changing it will be difficult. For someone who has gone beyond the call of duty to change the minds of others regarding this order. . ."

"Look," McCoy said. "that is different, and I will not change my mind.  Not now. Not ever." the unspoken words ' _can't be helped_ ' hung in the air.

"I wanted to make sure for Jim's concerns," Spock said. "they will be not pleased but satisfied."

McCoy peeled off a strip of skin around his knee.

"When does the USS Hope come in contact?" McCoy asked.

"The captain is talking with the captain as we speak," Spock said.

"Can we ignore what is happenin' to me?" McCoy asked. "And pretend nothin' is happening."

"As you wish," Spock stood up from the couch placing his hand onto the man's foot meeting the man's eyes. "I grieve with thee."

"I don't need any of your sympathy!" McCoy snapped. "Go, before I say somethin' I don't mean."

Then Spock went in the direction of the doors. The doors whooshed open for the commander then let him out. Spock's figure vanished from the doctor's line of sight. The doctor lowered his head and flicked off sudden, unexpected tears. McCoy didn't feel fine. He just felt terrible. And that his life had been yanked away by skinny dipping with merpeople. It just wasn't fair. He felt like a dead man walking among the living. He saw his toenails were gone. He still had five toes.


	9. Chapter 9

"Sheesh, who needs three years worth of Deluxian?" Nambue asked.

Commander Landry was leaned against walls leading to the transporter padd with her arms folded.

"I am pretty sure someone who is becoming half mermaid or merman," Landry said.

"Yeah, but three years," Nambue said. "that is not quite. . ."

"Realistic?" Landry finished.

"Yes," Nambue said, with a nod.

"This is the Enterprise we are sending it to," Landry said. "it must be one of the command triumvirate. Just in case of a ' _away for more than a month_ ' scenario," Nambue ordered the nurses to move one of the box's below one of the shafts. "Captain Kirk is a danger magnet."

Nambue turned his head in the woman's direction.

"I am pretty sure that would be ten years worth of it not two," Nambue said. "remember how he was in a time diluted agriculture starship and needed his age reversed last year?"

"Yes," Landry said, with a grave nod. "he lost two of my colleagues in that incident."

"My god, the reports indicated he was in his nineties," Nambue complained. "Looked like he was _fifty,"_ his attention turned toward the movers, panicking, at the circular barrels structures containing small, white pills. _"_ Don't drop the second container!"

"Of course he ages well," Landry said. "he is the captain of the Enterprise."

"Steady goes," Nambue said. "okay, now, Ensign, move the second barrel under the second shaft," he turned his attention in the direction of the woman. "He gets abducted a lot on away missions if you hadn't noticed. It's like he's in a classic gritty, edgy 21st century science fiction show following a formula that's getting boring."

"As a main character," Landry said, leaning her back off the wall.

"You can say that," Nambue said. "Potts! Smith! DON'T TIP IT OVER THAR WAY!" the man panicked. "it'll break ope and---" the barrel fell landing with a thud spilling its contents out. "break a leg."

The man rubbed his forehead with a groan. Why did he bother continuing to serve under Burnham's command? Because she was one of the captains that he trusted with his life. Rather to die serving under someone as competent, trust worthy, reliable, and know when to fire. The man came over toward the comn terminal then pressed the button.

"Nambue to bridge," Nambue said.

"Bridge here," Burnham said. "how is the transport going?"

"Eeeh," Nambue said. "we're going to need a refill. Ensigns just dropped the ball."

"Understood," Burnham said. "how much time do you need?"

Nambue looked over to the floor coated in white pills. Then toward the rounded cleaners coming out of the wall spinning in the general direction of the series of pills. It took awhile for the machinery to replenish the loss of pills, every individual pill, in fact. It was a annoying process but it was quick and efficient asides to the loud noises that it would make. Close to impossible to have a normal conversation without shouting. The pill replacement room was somewhere that most medical professionals did not want to visit. And if they had to go, it was for good reason.

"An hour and thirty three minutes," Nambue said. "tops. Captain."

"I will inform the Enterprise," Burnham said. Our scene panned over to the bridge as she pressed on flat screen to her comn terminal, "bridge out," then faced in the direction of the view screen. "Hail the Enterprise."

"Aye, captain," came the communications officer.

Kirk appeared on the view screen five minutes afterwards.

"Captain Burnham," Kirk said, apparently in his green wrap around shirt. Much like the variation that Burnham had on except it was more of a dress. "I didn't expect to get a call back."

"Your barrels will be delayed by an hour and thirty-three minutes, Kirk," Burnham said. "it appears that we need to be in transporter distance for much longer."

Kirk smiled back, apologetically.

"I am sorry for the hold up," Kirk said.

"It's fine," Burnham said. "not like we were looking forward to the new disease appearing on a planet you recently visited with a federation colony," Kirk was leaned to the left hand side of his chair. "gives my crew some required breathing room. On the other hand, I should apologize for holding up on your mission."

Kirk shook his hand.

"None needed," Kirk said. "the only thing you interrupted on was my entertainment off duty. This information is much more important than it, I will inform my head Chief Medical Officer regarding this development."

"I appreciate the understanding," Burnham said. "we must hang out on a starbase eventually and catch up face to face."

"I would find that preferable," Kirk agreed, with a nod. "I look forward to it."

"As do I," Burnham said. "Burnham out."

The view screen returned to space displaying the Enterprise in reach.


End file.
